Tower of Dawn
Page 66

Yrene let out another laugh, and Chaol found himself gazing toward her as the healer said, “Well, you can wait a little longer at this point.”
The woman gave Yrene a wry smile as she took back her burbling baby. “I certainly hope you enjoy yourself, since I can’t.”
Chaol caught her meaningful glance in his direction before Yrene did.
And he got no small amount of smug satisfaction from watching Yrene blink, then stiffen, then go red. “What—oh. Oh, no.”
The way she spat that no … He took no satisfaction in that.
The woman only laughed, hefting the baby a bit higher as she headed into her charming house. “I certainly would.”
The door shut.
Still red, Yrene turned to him, distinctly not meeting his eyes. “She’s opinionated.”
Chaol chuckled. “I hadn’t realized that I was a firm no.”
She glared at him, hauling herself onto her mare. “I don’t share a bed with patients. And you’re with Captain Faliq,” she added quickly. “And you’re—”
“Not in fit form to pleasure a woman?”
He was shocked he said it. But again more than a tad smug to see her eyes flare.
“No,” Yrene said, somehow going redder. “Certainly not that. But you’re … you.”
“I’m trying not to be insulted.”
She waved a hand, looking everywhere but at him. “You know what I mean.”
That he was a man from Adarlan, that he’d served the king? He certainly did. But he said, deciding to have mercy on her, “I was joking, Yrene. I … am with Nesryn.”
She swallowed, still blushing like mad. “Where is she today?”
“She went to attend the ceremony with her family.” Nesryn hadn’t invited him, and he’d claimed he wanted to put off their own ride through the city. Yet here he now was.
Yrene nodded distantly. “Are you going to the party tonight—at the palace?”
“Yes. Are you?”
Another nod. Stilted silence. Then she said, “I’m afraid to work on you today—just in case we lose track of time again and miss the party.”
“Would it be so bad if we did?”
She eyed him while they turned a corner. “It would offend some of them. If it didn’t offend the Lady of the Great Deep herself. I’m not sure which scares me more.” He chuckled again as Yrene went on, “Hasar lent me a dress, so I have to go. Or risk her wrath.”
Some shadow passed over her face. And he was about to ask about it when she said, “Do you want to have a tour?”
He stared at her, at the offer she’d thrown his way.
“I’ll admit I don’t know that much about the history, but my work has taken me to every quarter, so I can at least keep us from getting lost—”
“Yes,” he breathed. “Yes.”
Yrene’s smile was tentative. Quiet.
But she led him onward, the streets beginning to fill as the ceremonies ended and celebrating began. As laughing people streamed down the avenue and alleys, music pouring from everywhere, the smell of food and spices wrapping around him.
He forgot about the heat, the baking sun, forgot to keep moving his toes every now and then, as they rode through the winding quarters of the city, as he marveled at the domed temples and free libraries, as Yrene showed him the paper money they used—mulberry bark backed in silk—in lieu of unwieldy coins.
She bought him her favorite treats, a confection made from carob, and offered smiles to anyone who came her way. Rarely to him, though.
There was no street she balked at turning down, no neighborhood or alley she seemed to fear. A god-city, yes—and also a city of learning, of light and comfort and wealth.
When the sun reached its zenith, she led them into a lush public garden, its overhanging trees and vines blocking out the brutal rays. They rode down the labyrinth of walkways, the garden near-empty thanks to everyone now partaking in the midday meal.
Raised beds of flowers overflowed with blossoms, hanging ferns swayed in the cool breeze off the sea, birds called to one another from the cover of the drooping fronds overhead.
“Do you think …,” Yrene said after long minutes of quiet, “that one day …” She gnawed on her bottom lip. “That we could have a place like this?”
“In Adarlan?”
“In anywhere,” she said. “But yes—in Adarlan, in Fenharrow. I heard Eyllwe’s cities were once as fine as this, before …”
Before the shadow between them. Before the shadow in his heart.
“They were,” Chaol said, sealing away the thought of the princess who’d lived in those cities, who’d loved them. Even as the scar on his face seemed to twinge. But he considered her question. And from those shadows of his memory, he heard Aedion Ashryver’s voice.
What do you suppose the people on other continents, across all those seas, think of us? Do you think they hate us or pity us for what we do to each other? Perhaps it’s just as bad there. Perhaps it’s worse. But … I have to believe it’s better. Somewhere, it’s better than this.
He wondered if he’d ever get to tell Aedion that he’d found such a place. Perhaps he would tell Dorian what he’d seen here. Help rebuild the ruins of Rifthold, of his kingdom, into something like this.
He realized he hadn’t finished. That Yrene was still waiting, as she brushed aside a trailing vine of small purple flowers. “Yes,” he said at last, at the wariness hiding that tiny burning kernel of hope in her eyes. “I believe we can build this for ourselves one day.” He added, “If we survive this war.” If he could leave here with an army behind him to challenge Erawan.
Time pressed on him, smothering him. Faster. He had to move faster with everything—
Yrene scanned his face in the heavy heat of the garden. “You love your people very much.”
Chaol nodded, unable to find the words.
She opened her mouth, as if she’d say something, but closed it. Then said, “Even the people of Fenharrow were not blameless with their actions this past decade.”
Chaol tried not to look at the faint scar across her throat. Had it been one of her own countrymen who had—
She sighed, studying the rose garden wilting in the blistering heat. “We should head back. Before the crowds get impossible.”